Breaking News!

Last minute change of plans. We're going to the jungle. Tomorrow.

See you all in a few days!

I'm turning into a pharmacy.

October 9, 2008

I woke up better. Not perfect, but better. We packed up and got down to the Aguas Calienes train station for our 9:30am departure. I tried to sleep on the train. Nate said I slept with one eye open. Creepy.

Ollantaytambo was the same as when we left it. We stopped by the awesome restaurant for some food. I could hardly finish my veggie soup. When my trips to the bathroom became more frequent, I knew that something was wrong.

We caught a colectivo to Cusco, which dropped us off at the doorstep of good ol’ Loki. We check in and, shortly after, we call the doctor. The fever is gone, but everything else is worse. The doctor comes, gives me some new pills (I’m turning into quite the pharmacy) and says that I have some kind of parasite. Giardia, he said. G-love and Special Sauce, Wes said.

Ugh. Gross. For a description of what that is, I suggest wikipedia. And if you don’t want too much information, I suggest that you stop reading now.

I couldn’t eat my soupy dinner. As I tried to sleep it off, my stomach pains got worse and my belly swelled up to gigantic proportions. It could very well have been an alien baby growing inside me. I was in so much pain that I asked a girl in the dormitory to get Nate. We called the doctor again. I was moaning and groaning in bed. The pain was almost unbearable.

The doctor came. I was panicked. He listened to my stomach growth and, after searching for a vein, injected some medicine into my arm. Shortly after, I got up to go to the bathroom where I let out some of the most tremendous sounds that I’ve heard since the last Jim Carrey movie. But before I was finished, I started getting dizzy. Really dizzy. I panicked. I knew I had been losing nutrients. There was nothing of substance in my digestive tract. How was I going to fend off this illness? My head was swimming. Would this be the end? Would I not have enough energy to beat this? Would Peru be my last stop? I honestly thought I wasn’t going to make it.

I could hardly make it back to the room. But when I did, I was so frantic that I must have really scared both Nate and the poor doctor. The room was spinning and I was losing control of my health. The doctor helped me into bed, took my pulse and my blood pressure (twice). He explained that the dizziness was due to the medicine that he just injected and that it would pass. My pulse slowed as I realized that, for the time being, I would be ok. I wasn’t going to die. I would recover. Whew.

That night I drifted in and out of troublesome sleep, faithfully taking my meds.

October 10, 2008

The next morning, I was great. I felt wonderful and even had my appetite back! Nate, however, had developed one of my unpleasant symptoms. We went to see the doctor, who gave Nate some pills and was relieved to see me smiling.

As the day progressed, I didn’t feel quite as awesome. But I kept taking my meds and eating my soups.

October 11, 2008

I am teetering on the edge between well and sick. I’m sticking to my medicinal schedule, which doesn’t let me sleep for more than 6 hours at a time. Both Nate and I are dehydrated, but overall his stomach seems to be handling things better than mine. I don’t really like staying in Cusco this long, but I really want to feel better before we move to Puno.

Machu Picchu Maniacal Pursuit

October 7, 2008

On our first day in Aguas Calientes I was ready to for the city to redeem itself. The continental breakfast that we were promised was non-existent. And there was no one to be found in our hostel. The rain was still coming down. We set off walking in search of a new hostel, which was not hard to find. There was one on every corner and, since it is the beginning of the slow tourist season, they were all eager to impress. We inquired about services and prices at perhaps 10 of them before we decided on the place across the street from our previous hostel. We’d be paying less than half the price and the room was nicer.

Next, we kept ourselves busy running errands. Market for food stuffs, tourist office for Machu Picchu tickets, artisan market for killing time, lunch for grumbly tummies, and by the afternoon we had completely exhausted the city.

Bedtime was early… to prepare us for…

October 8, 2008


3am wakeup time. It was still raining and dark outside. We ate a quick breakfast and shivered into our clothes. Layers, lots of layers, including the all-important rain layer (ponchos and plastic bags over our feet). I wasn’t feeling spectacular and attributed it to the altitude. Too bad we couldn’t awake the sleeping staff for hot water for coca tea. It was about 4am when we set out from the hostel.



The streets were cold, dark, wet, and empty. We looked awful silly in our getups, but we knew better than to be self-conscious about our attire. Besides, who’s gonna judge us? The sleeping guy on the plaza bench? The store owner who tries to sell us water? The closed store fronts and the barren railroad tracks?

As we left the city lights, we adorned our headlamps. The pale beams of light kept us from sidestepping into the rushing river to our left. The plastic bags on our feet and the hoods on our heads kept us from immediate chill, but it was only a matter of time.

We passed the abandoned buses that, in about an hour, would be shuttling tourists up and down the path to Machu Picchu. Our goal: to beat the buses and their tourists to be the first people to the top.

Down the dirt road, past unseen landscapes, we arrive at a bridge. Following Nate’s advice, we cross the bridge and arrive at the bottom of the path up. There’s the buses’ road and the pedestrian’s stone stairway. Arrowed signs mark the start of the ascent.

Our shoe bags started ripping. Our breaths began to quicken. We stayed hydrated with bottled beverages. The pre-sun morning was still pitch black save our feeble headlamps. The rain was still falling.

Up up up up upupupup! The stairs kept going. We heard dogs in the distance and our memories flashbacked to Laguna Quilotoa! We quickened our steps.

At some point I looked up, and realized that the sky has lightened. The edges of the hills surrounding us were emerging. We switched off our headlamps; it couldn’t be too much farther.

Our shoes were wet and my pants were soaked by the time we surface at the top of the stairs. Bienvenidos a Machu Picchu! We made it! We took some time to congratulate ourselves.

But to our (mostly Nate’s) dismay, we found out that we were not the first people there. A group of three Australians had beat us up. They said that they had left the hotel at 3:30am! And without headlamps! They had followed the railroad tracks and had stumbled through the darkness all the way to the top. We commended them on a job well done! We surrendered the crown of hardcore to them.

More people started arriving after that. I wrung out my socks and munched on some bread before the gates opened at 6am. When we entered the ruins of Machu Picchu, there was a blanket of white clouds over everything. We ran through the crumbling rock walls, up and down stairs, past lounging alpaca to the entrance of Wayna Picchu. We had heard that only the first 400 people into Machu Picchu got tickets to climb up. So we had to get there, and fast!

We ended up being first in line for Wayna Picchu. They opened the gates at 6:45am and Nate and I started up the trail. The trail curled up and around the hill. The sky was bright white. We had no concept of how far we were going and what was around us.

Up and up we climbed. The trail was muddy and rocky and arduous at times. We crawled into caves and up ruins on the other side. Finally we got to the top.

Whew.

But all we could see was white. We knew we were high up, but we didn’t have surroundings to verify that. We knew we were supposed to see a spectacular view of Machu Picchu. But all we could see was white.

It was still only 8am and we assumed that the sun would start to burn off the clouds. So we decided to wait it out; we had time. The early morning hike caught up with me. I put my head down in Nate’s lap to rest.

Very shortly after, Nate said that the clouds were clearing. Sure enough, little snippets of ground became visible. Over the next few hours, we saw more and more. It was breathtaking. And the blanket of cloudy mist added a certain mystical element to the whole scene.


We stayed for a few hours marveling as the spectacular view swung in and out of view.

We headed back down and made a stop at Huchuypicchu, a smaller version of Wayna Picchu. It had a surprisingly good view so we lingered for a few pictures and some munchy snacks.

We then headed down into Machu Picchu to wander through the ruins. Nate seemed more interested in the big slabs of rock than the actual ruins, but who can blame him? It’s been a while since he’s climbed anything. I was not feeling spectacular. I was tired, weak, tired, cold, and tired! At least the rain had let up a bit.

Nate wanted to climb Mountain Machu Picchu. Why hike only two out of the three surrounding mountains? My body was telling me not to, but Nate and my stubbornness were telling me to try it. What harm could come from it?

We started up. I took it slow. Very slow. Step by step. Could altitude be the culprit? Could it be the fact that we’ve only munched on bars all day and not actual food? Could it be the weather? The early departure time? All of the above?!

At a certain point near the top, I sat on a rock. Nate promised to run to the top and back down again. Ok. I had a pretty great view. I’d wait.

Nate danced up the stairs and I put my head down. I flirted with sleep until I felt the first view drops of rain. I tried to take cover under some trees, but the incessant drip drip drip covered my rain coat.

I continued to wait, sitting in the rain. Come on, Nate. Half an hour went by. I questioned the people coming down and they verified that he had indeed run up the mountain. I started shivering and debating descending without him. A trail maintenance worker waited with me making conversation. A bit later, Nate appeared out of breath and sopping wet. I said goodbye to the kind man who kept me company and we skipped down the mountain. I was not feeling well. That was a fact.

I just wanted to get back to Aguas Calientes as fast as possible. I sprinted towards the exit. We weaved in and out of stubborn tourists who liked to walk painfully slowly and not let anyone pass. The rain was still coming down. My rain jacket felt inadequate. My sneakers were soaked. My pants clung to me. And my body was shaking.

The line for the bus back down to Aguas Calientes was way too long and uncovered. I put on all my layers, turned to Nate, and declared I was ready to head back. Step step step. Eternal stairs.

The rain didn’t stop that night. But when we finally got back to the hotel, we changed into dry clothes and I hopped into bed. Nate didn’t let me stay there for long. We had to get something to eat. All that trekking on empty tummies is not good. We had brought energy and candy bars, but those only go so far. Real food was imperative.

But for some reason I wasn’t hungry. No, I just didn’t have an appetite. Hmmm. We sit down to a nice dinner. I order quinoa soup and a quinoa risotto to replenish my protein for the day. But when the food came, I was shivering and didn’t feel like eating. I forced myself to eat the soup, but soon felt nauseous. I made it to the bathroom before I puked.

I couldn’t eat anymore and apologized to the waitress. We hardly made it back to the hotel before I puked again. Nate ran out to the nearest pharmacy and (all in Spanish) explained my situation. He returned successful with some pills. Way to go, Nate!

But soon after I took the pills, I started burning up. Worse than before. Nate got worried when he felt my face. My eyes were bloodshot and my cheeks were flushed. I knew something was very wrong with me. Nate went to the reception to call a doctor and I whimpered in bed until he came back. I was so tired and feverish.

Finally the doctors came, yes there were two, and asked some questions. They gave me some more pills and some pink rehydrating liquid. They said that I’d be fine to travel by tomorrow. My fever was hovering between 100-102.3 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cusco to Aguas Calientes! No transit strike will hold us back!

October 4, 2008

The bus ride was long. Very long. I guess I woke up around 7am when the sun was up. We received a roll and a half of a Styrofoam cup of tea for breakfast courtesy of the bus company.

I guess it was around 10am when we had to stop to change the tire. One of the travelers had a soccer ball, so a few of us kicked it around for a bit. There was also a fairly large group of Peruvian high school kids on the bus on a field trip. We challenged each other to a match, so it was five against five. I thought that they would whoop us, but we gringos held our own. I was the only girl playing and (if I can pat myself on the back) I was responsible for a large percentage of the goals and steals. The game was over when we kicked the ball one too many times into the dirty stream down below. We won.

After 19 hours on the bus, we pulled into Cusco. Driving into the city, I was not impressed. We shared a cab with two English girls and ended up paying 75 céntimos each to get to the Plaza de Armas. We shouldered our packs and walked to Hostal Quechua, which promised free internet, breakfast, and tea. The friendly receptionist poured us two mugs of coca tea upon arrival. Mmmm… I had always heard of the supposedly cure-all coca leaves (my mom swears by it for altitude sickness and Bolivians use it for everything!), but I had never had it before.

It was then that we opened the flood gates to the coca tea.

We walked around to get our bearings in this new city. We found the tourist information, the market, and all the cute side streets. Cuzco is nice. Very touristy, but what else can we expect for the jumping off point to Machu Picchu, the Inca trail, Pisac, and other spectacularly preserved ruins?



We walked around for a long time trying to find the ellusive Indian food restaurant, so we settled for Alpaca and pizza instead. My Alpaca dish was delicious! Nate's pizza was not very good. We shared both dishes, which ended up making me quite sick.

Back in the hostel, there was no internet. And we were paying an obscene amount of money for the room. So we told the receptionist 'thanks, but no thanks' and packed our bags. We gave them $2 each for the showers, but opted for the backpacker party mecca called Loki. Free internet, breakfast, coca tea, and kitchen privileges. Perfect!

But whenever we're in Loki, there's always some kind of drama. One of our dormitory-mates came in at 4:30am and had smashed his front teeth into his bottom lip and had no idea how it had happened. I put on some clothes and provided some moral support for his girlfriend until the doctor decided to take him to the hospital.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Got up leisurely. Spent some time walking around the city. Took advantage of the kitchen to cook up some lunch and dinner. Met some wonderful American women with Obama pins in the Plaza de Armas. And internet internet internet.



Monday, October 6, 2008

Another travel day means getting up early. We hopped down to the train station to get our Ollantaytambo- Aguas Calientes train ticket. But no. The woman at the desk said that they were all sold out. You see, because of the transit strike the next day, all the travelers are booking their tickets in advance. The next available train would leave on Thursday. Thursday?! We don't have that kinda time.

We hop back to the hostel brainstorming all the way. We decided to go to Ollantaytambo anyway and then sweet talking our way onto the train. If that failed, well we didn't have a back up plan, so it couldn't fail... right?

Made some eggs and hopped a colectivo to Ollantaytambo. We missed the 12:11pm train, so we bought slightly more expensive tickets for the 18:58 train. That meant that we had at least 6 hours to explore this quaint, yet grossly touristic town.

It was raining, so we hopped in a restaurant for some yummy food! And then took a stroll around the town. We still had 4 hours to kill.

So we strolled around again. And again. Vendors tried to sell us coca candy, bags, ponchos, ANYTHING! But we fended them off. The main ruins of the city were 40 soles to enter. 40 soles? eek.

So we opted for the free ruins across town. To get there we had to go through a family's back yard and scramble up the rocky hillside. The children pointed the way. The air was thin and we were getting some good training for Machu Picchu!

We explored the ruins. And then spotted some more ruins and hiked to those.

It was getting dark when we made our way down. So we headed to the train station to wait. The train came and we hopped aboard. Dinner and cramped leg room were included in the price. The rain drops plopped against the windows.

Aguas Calientes met us with a hectic welcoming crowd shoving hostel brochures in our faces. But we had booked ahead. A guy held a sign with my name and we followed him in the rain to the hostel.

I was a bit disappointed at the first impressions of Aguas Calientes. Expensive tourist town. Raining, but my pasta was ok and Nate's alpaca was good.

We fell quickly asleep that night.

After sandboarding in Huacachina and Nazca lines, we're off to Cusco!

October 2, 2008.

We awake in a beautiful desert oasis nestled among palm trees and hammocks. Towering sand dunes fill in on all sides. We take our time getting up. The kitchen is at our command. Soup for me and my tummy. Pancakes with fresh fruit, bathed in chocolate for Nate. Fair? I think not!

Intrigued, we head down to the water’s edge to do a perimeter walk. Scout out potential lunch places. The weather is flawless and the sun glistens off of the water.

We make friends with Jamie and Daniel back at the Banana Hostel and end up talking so long that we almost don’t make it to Ica. I bargain with the cab driver for a speedy ATM and grocery run and we’re back in Huacachina before we know it!

A comfortable lunch (with an ice cream scoop for dessert?!) and we get ready for… SANDBOARDING! I am so excited and have no idea what to expect. I have gone snow boarding on a couple occasions, but sandboarding?!

4:30pm arrives and we coat ourselves with suntan lotion. Nate and I claim the two front seats of the dune buggy. Click. Buckle our seat belts. And off we go!

The driver puts the buggy in gear and floors the gas pedal. We fly out of the little town and into the great wide desert sand. We climb up a dune and cruise down the other side of it! It’s like a wild rollercoaster ride. The driver grins as we gasp wide-eyed and plummet into the sand valleys. Not a journey for the faint of heart, but rather a journey for the adrenaline junkie.

We pull up onto the top of a hill and file out of the buggy. The view is spectacular! Rolling sand dunes with pockets of green hidden away. But here’s the fun part… we are each handed a board and a candle. We “wax” down our boards with the candles, strap them to our feet and try to make it down the hill.


I try it lying down first. Clutching to the straps, I fly down the hill, going much faster than I had expected. What a rush!



For the next hill I get a little braver. I strap the board to my feet and cautiously peer over the edge. Here goes nothing! I make it down, slow at first, steadying myself with my hand. Whew!


Third hill, I am more confident, but still scared out of my mind.


The fourth hill was the last practice hill. Nate was the second to last person to come down. Jamie, our friend from the hostel, was the last. All eyes were on him as he started his descent. He went straight down. He picked up speed, but stayed crouched down to steady himself. As he stood up a little, the board caught in the sand. We watched as if it were in slow motion as Jamie fell, hitting his head, and summersalting over and over. When he came to a stop, he lay there face down in the sand.

Panicked we all sprinted towards him. He regained consciousness and could respond to questions, but he was clearly in shock. A kind nurse steadied him as we waited for him to recover. What a scary moment! He ended up being able to walk back to the buggy, but we were all still worried. He had been going so fast and hit his head so hard! We all feared long term damage.

We hopped in the dune buggy and set out for the longest and most awesome hill yet. After Jamie’s incident, we all decided to tackle this one laying down. This hill was so steep that there was a part of it we couldn’t see over the edge. It’s terrifying to put your confidence in an activity that you can’t see.



And it was so scary! But so much fun! We were going so fast down that hill and the only brakes we had were our feet behind us. I tried to brake so hard, but I still ended up going the farthest! What a fun day!


We started our drive back as the sun was setting. We bounced in and out of the dunes. The driver kept pushing the buggy, faster and faster! And around tight corners. It was so fun and so beautiful!
We had a lot to talk about that night. Poor Jamie was still recovering from his fall. Nate and I cooked up a mean soup before heading over to the next hostel to watch the second half of the Vice-Presidential debate. It was a little painful to watch.

After hanging out with the other passengers on the dune buggy ride, we retired to our bungaloo.

October 3, 2008. Which also happened to be my 23rd birthday.

Nate let me sleep in! I woke up to more soup. Soup soup soup.

The laguna of Huacachina is featured on the back of the 20 soles bill, so we decided to climb up one of the sand dunes for the view. Sand walking is tough. For every step you take, your foot slides down half a step. Step, slide, step, slide.




We finally got to the top and had a wonderful 360 degree view. We saw the laguna of Huacachina below us, Ica 5 km away, and sand sand sand extending in all directions after that. It was beautiful!

We ran back down the dune taking giant steps!

Quickly packed and headed to Ica. Bought our tickets to Nazca and sat in the waiting room munching on animal crackers and watching bad TV. As we boarded the bus, the security guard told us to hold our bags on our laps, not under the seat and not overhead. Gotcha. We’ve had this routine before gracias a Latacunga. Apparently the successful culprits passed on their knowledge. But we’re not falling for it this time.

We arrived in Nazca and convinced a pretty pricey hotel to watch our bags until our night bus. Then we set off walking. Goal: get to the mirador to see the Nazca lines.

Nazca lines? They’re actually pretty cool. They are a network of over 800 lines, 300 geometric figures (geoglyphs) and some 70 animal and plant drawings (biomorphs) drawn over 500 sq km of desert. They are huge pictures carved into the earth and can only be appreciated from the sky. No one really knows what they were used for or what inspired the Nazca people to sculpt them over 1500 years ago (before technology was invented to view them!).

Flights, however, were beyond our meager budget. At $60 per person for a half an hour flight, we figured that that money would be better off spent elsewhere. We opted for the mirador, a 30 foot tower in the desert 30km outside of town, from which you could see maybe three figures.

We had been told that a taxi to the mirador would be 60 soles, so when the taxi driver quoted 40 soles, we jumped in. But then the driver did something strange. He called over a person who sells phone calls. He made a call and said something along the lines of “I have two tourists. I’m taking them to the mirador.” Nate and I looked at each other. We had heard of taxi drivers taking tourists to the middle of nowhere or a deserted part of town and then a group of people would come out of nowhere and mug them. We were carrying not only our computers, but our wallets, our camera and our passports. Everything that was valuable or important.

As we started driving out of Nazca, I nervously struck up a conversation with the driver. My reason being that if he got to know us, he’d be less likely to hurt or steal from us. The conversation was awesome. We told him about us (what we studied in school, where we were from, about our trip) and he told us about himself (about his wife and children, about Peru, and about himself).


We pulled up to the mirador and I was still a little nervous. We were in the middle of the desert. But the driver had delivered on his promise to take us to the mirador and there were some vendors selling trinkets, so we weren’t all alone. The view itself was less than spectacular, but I’m sure we would have regretted not coming. On the way back into town, a man at the mirador asked if he could share the ride with us. At first I was uneasy about it, but then figured that it’d be safer with more people.

The whole ride back we gave the man Chinese lessons.

Lunch! They forgot our mate de coca, but otherwise it was good. Our overnight bus left at 8pm, so until then we wasted time sitting in the Plaza de Armas, interneting, and buying a huge box of donuts (it was my birthday afterall). The donuts ended up being less than desirable, so we ended up giving them out to people on the street. People were skeptical, quizzical, and then thankful for the free treats.

As the sun set the only thought on my mind was: Cusco here we come!

Paracas: The good, the bad, and the delicious

Tuesday September 30, 2008. My alarm disturbed my slumber at 5:15am. Quick shower, warmed up soup for breakfast, packed and headed out.

It was our first ever experience with Cruz Del Sur, supreme luxury bus. The prices are so high that only foreigners and very rich Peruvians ever take it. The bus station reminded me of an airport. The bus was double-decker with foot-rests and nearly fully reclining seats. The bus-attendant went through a safety talk before serving our breakfasts. Not soon after, we began a bingo game for a bottle of pisco. The next step up would have been back-of-the-seat entertainment.

I almost didn’t want to get off at Paracas, a beach town 15 km south of Earthquake-rocked Pisco. We were met with a hot sun and persistent hostel representatives. Nate and I opted to walk into the center of town. We looked at each and every hostel. Price, services, staff friendliness.

The sun was very hot and we had all of our bags on. I started getting crabby. The guys from certain hostel keep following us, which just turned us off more. We hiked all over town looking for places and ended up at one that gave us a good deal on a boat to the Islas Ballestas. Sweaty and exhausted we dropped our bags and headed out to eat.

What to eat in a beach town? Seafood? Ok! We feel adventuresome enough to try the ceviche de corvina (raw fish marinated in lime and hot pepper topped with onion) and the chicarrón de calamar (mmmm… fried calamari). Both dishes were big steps for Nate and I commend his efforts to chip away at his food-phobias!


The ceviche came first. Moment of truth, would he like it?? Would I like it?!


It was odd at first, but then we both decided that it was quite tasty! Mmm… I loved the spicy sauce and the combination with the onion. The texture was a lot like sashimi (hey, I wonder why?!).





Next came the calamari, battered and fried. And… Nate liked it! Success on all fronts! Hooray for delicious seafood!





With nothing to do for the rest of the day, we set out walking for the National Reserve. They all said it was too far for us to walk, especially that late in the day, but what else were we going to do? So we faced the sun and set out walking. We passed luxurious houses with beautiful flower gardens, we passed the sites of future development exploiting the natural beauty of the coast, uninhibited desert winds, friendly dogs and unpaved roads.




We finally arrived at the entrance of the park where we met a friendly park guard. The sun was on its way down as we started our walk back into town.



Dinner was a little bit of a disappointment after our spectacular lunch. And my stomach wasn’t having anything to do with it.

Wednesday October 1, 2008

I woke up at 2am in pain. I woke up at 4am in more pain and weak. I knew it was time to set aside my pride and just get medical help. Around 6am, Nate went downstairs to ask about the nearest hospital. There was only a clinic in Paracas, but that didn’t open until 11am. I put on some clothes and we headed out to Pisco. The people in our colectivo were super nice. The driver tried to ask for more money than he was due.

The earthquake a few months ago flattened much of Pisco. The hospital was one of the buildings destroyed, so much of the complex is tent city. I paid my 4 soles ($1.33) for an emergency room consult and was attended to almost immediately.

I got a prescription from a friendly doctor and we returned to Paracas. No IV because my dehydration wasn’t severe enough to warrant one. We got back to the hotel at 8am sharp. We had a boat reservation for that time. Let's go!



We hop down to the pier where there's a massive crowd of tourists. After paying our 1 sol exit tax, we are shuttled onto boats. Vrroooom! We're off!





First stop Candelabra! Next stop islands! And birds. Lots and lots of birds. It was practically impossible to take a picture without a orange life-vested tourist in the way. Sea lions. Dolphins. They call it the poor man's Galapagos. It was definitely cheaper than the 5 day Ecuadorian cruise and we sure saw some wildlife.






Back on land we buy our bus tickets for Ica. The pharmacist runs away with my prescription. We sit in a park until the bus arrives. My poor stomach tries to fend off the bad germies.




Good thing the bus ride was a short one. And since we had the last row, we could recline our seats all the way. Wheeeeeee!



Arrived in Ica and and over-friendly ambitious taxi driver (and tour booker) drove us to the desert oasis town of Huacachina. He drove us to all his friend's hostels and we finally found one within our budget. It was a bungaloo with bunkbeds and shared bathrooms. We'll take it!

The microwaved lasagna makes me feel sick. Bed time.

Funny faces in Sechín and wanderings in Lima "book your hostel in advance" Perú

The alarm goes off early on the morning of Sunday, September 28. We pack up our stuff and eat a little something before we’re out the door by 9am. It’s gonna be a long day ahead of us. Peter meets us at our hostel and we rrrrrrrr down the street in his moto-rickshaw, as Nate carefully watches the mechanics of motorcycle riding. We pick up the bikes and take off!

My bike frequently clicks and snaps. Nate’s is way too small for him. All of the tires are low on air. Good thing it’s only 5km. The shoulder of the road disappeared. Extremely large VOLVO trucks honked us out of their way. The military guards by the speed bump waved at us.

And before we knew it, we were in the country side! We biked along the road past pastures. What a different experience from the inside of a bus. We were out in the countryside instead of just watching it whiz by the window!

My bike couldn’t shift gears, so at times I chugged along and at times I cruised!

We passed over a tiny bridge and turned left, avoiding the larger bridge to Huaraz (sorry Nate, maybe next time). A few more miles and we made it!

Down the gravel road we find the ruins. But wait! We have to pay 6 soles entrance fee. “Museum first, ruins second” says a sign, so we oblige.

The museum is a funny sight. And by funny, I mean pretty darn empty. I think Nate was relieved. We flew through it, excited by the prospects of 3600-year-old ruins of a temple “covered with gruesomely realistic bas-relief carvings of warrior and captives being vividly eviscerated.” (Lonely Planet, South America on a shoe string, Peru) Sweet.



Well, kinda. By my ruins standards, which have been set pretty high from Lebanon, Jordan and Egypt, it’s nothing spectacular. We climb up for a bird’s eye view of the ruins and run back down.





We make faces at the reliefs as they giggle back.






But quickly now! We have a bus to catch!! We hop back on the bikes. My legs feel like jelly; am I really this out of shape?! Heading back to Casma is easier since it’s all down hill! Moto-rickshaws, cars and trucks honked as they passed.



We dropped off the bikes at their homes and walked back to the hostel. We had a good hour to wait until the next bus for Lima, so we waited. Peter stopped by to check in. He ended up waiting with us for our bus. What a good guy! He went above and beyond what we had hoped. We quickly tutored him in English and joked around. It was sad to leave, but Lima here we come!

But not so fast! Our bus received a punctured tire along the journey. We ended up arriving in Lima after the sun had set. I’d read some things about Lima. You know, big city with high unemployment rate. Better to take the secure cabs. Don’t walk in certain parts of the city alone. The woman at the bus company office said that we wouldn’t be able to get a secure cab at that hour. Oh no. Two friendly women hailed us a cab and bargained the driver down.

We kept a careful eye out the window to make sure we were going in the right direction. The cab driver was very nice and dropped us off at the hostal. Whew! We lug ourselves up the stairs only to find that there are no more rooms available. We wander around, tired and hungry until we give up and hop in another cab. The driver is super awesome. He calls all his buddies to try to find out where this other elusive hostel is. With team work, we drive and find it.

The talkative guy at the hostel does not pick up on my "I'm very tired and hungry, please stop explaining how a refrigerator works" look. We find an overpriced Arabic food restaurant and pig out!

On the bus ride from Casma, my forehead started burning. Followed by stomach cramps. Followed by headache and fatigue. Followed by worse stomach cramps. Food just made it worse.

I was in so much pain. And shaking from fever. I don't know how I got back to the hostel, but as soon as I did, I collapsed into bed for a night of feverish dreams.

Monday, September 29.

By morning my fever had subsided a bit. At least I was coherent. We packed our bags and set off for another hostel. After wandering all morning through Miraflores we finally ended up at the backpackers' party central: Loki. We got a bright green wrist-band. Internet, communal kitchen, and comfy beds. Sounds like paradise to me!

Don't remember much about Monday. My stomach was doing all sorts of grumpy things. I spent most of the day in a fetal position trying to convince myself that tea, soup and positive thinking would alleviate my pain. And it did. Kinda.

Soup and wine was dinner. Quite a delicous dinner. We booked our bus for Pisco/Paracas for the next morning! Leave the hostel at 6:00am?! Time to get to bed!

The Party Never Ends in Perú

Thursday September 25. Huanchaco, Peru.



The bright sun doesn’t let me sleep in very late. We eat our breakfasts looking over the ocean. Mmmm… fresh tropical fruit, a girl could get used to this.




I found the market by accident. Smaller than in other cities, but well stocked with plenty of fruits, veggies, and meats. I got the makings of a great lunch for only a few dollars. Down by the beach, the wind was fierce and gave me goosebumbs. We climbed up to the church on a hill for the view of sand-colored houses and blue ocean. By afternoon, the sun was full and bright. I lay in the sun, half-asleep listening to the waves.

Huanchaco is a surfing town. When we walk down the street, the store owners will come out to try to sell us a day of surfing. They’ll even come across the street to get us! Nate’s not feeling great and I don’t want to try surfing on my own, so I stick to swimming. But I don’t last long in the chilly water.

We share the kitchen at dinner time. On the menu: a hearty potato, carrot, rice soup with fresh bread. And some eggs and avocados.

Beer for me. Fanta for Nate. Playing card games for both of us. Early night to prepare for an early morning.

Friday September 26. Huanchaco, Peru.

The alarm demands attention at 6:40am. We struggle out of bed and into warm clothes. The sky is light as we head down to the pier. Our breakfast glides to shore in a tiny one-person boat. We crowd around with about 5 other people. I point to the one I want, cuánto cuesta? 3 soles as he hands me the catch. Tada! Our breakfast is served!

But... um… slight problem as neither Nate or I know how to gut the fish or fillet it properly. We take it to the market, put a pathetic look on our faces and tell a stall owner that we don’t know how to clean the fish. One guy overhears our conversation, grabs the fish and a knife and heads outside. Outside the market he scales the fish with quick sporatic flicks of the knife into the back of a garbage truck. Next he slices it open and starts taking all the gooey fish parts out. When he’s finished, he rinses it and sticks it in the bag. We smile and thank him. What an awesome friendly man! We grab some bread and head back to cook our fish!

But… um… slight problem as neither Nate or I know how to fillet or cook fish. We take the kitchen’s dull, but only knife and set to work. I messily start taking the fish apart. Whack! First the head. Slice. Then the fins and bones. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it worked. Give me a few more tries and I’ll have it down.

Mmmm… within an hour the fish came out of the water and was on our plates. Can’t get any fresher than that! And it was tender and delicious with a little bit of lime and salt.

After such an early morning, a nap was in order. Nate wasn’t feeling superb, so he slept until a pancake breakfast gave him enough sugar to perk up. With our bags packed, we hopped on a Trujillo-bound combi. It bounced along mercilessly tossing us around its metallic insides. We clung tightly to our bags since we had heard some rumors about shifty characters patrolling these combis. Even though the bus was mostly filled with school children, you can never be too careful.


The ayudante let us know when we arrived at the intersection of España and Independencia. We walked the three blocks in search of a specific hostel. We got a room on the top floor with a communal balcony.



A perimeter walk got us to the Plaza de Armas. The streets were hectic and left me feeling rather claustrophobic. We finally found a restaurant for dinner. After buying some munchie supplies from the supermercado, we settled in our hotel room to watch Barack Obama trounce John McCain in the first presidential debate.

Saturday, September 27. Trujillo, Peru


We woke up lazily. We turned our backs on the pricey tourist breakfast places and found some empanadas for breakfast. A parade went by on the calle de independencia.



A taxi took us to the bus company office of American Express. We caught a grungy bus for Chimbato. I asked the driver to let us off near the colectivos to Casma. We hopped a colectivo and sped off.

Why are we going to Casma? Well, it cuts our trip to Lima by a third and nobody likes long bus rides. Plus, there are some well preserved ruins of Sechín to go to near there. We pulled into town and got dropped off at the door of our hostel.

Lunch at a restaurante chifa (chinese food) with very friendly owners. mmm... Peruvian word of the day, tallarín= pasta. I had thought it was some kind of meat!

The sun was setting as we walked the streets looking for a bike-rental place. All of a sudden we heard a very accented "hello, how are you?" We are used to that by now. People always throw whatever English they have at Nate, but this guy seemed nice enough. We stopped and talked.

The guy's name was Peter and he was a moto-rickshaw driver. We stood there talking for a while. He said that he would find bikes for us. He sped off and we returned to our hotel room.

That night there was a parade (every night is a party here in Peru!) with firecrackers and everything. We followed it for a while, exploring a new part of town. On the walk back to the hotel, we got a couple DVDs.

Peter picked us up and we saw the bikes. Bargained. Test rode them. Bargained. At the end everyone was satisfied. It was settled we'd start biking at 9am!

Went to bed promptly after we watched a Colombian movie.